University of Virginia Library

Scene II

A weed-grown platform in the castle of Isolt of Brittany. The sea with coast-line of receding cliffs is seen over a ruined parapet in the background. L. a tower of the castle with arched doorway. On an angle in the parapet R., a small turret with steps leading up to it.
Tristram lies upon a couch L. C., Caradoc watching beside him. The sunset-glow falls from the R. upon Tristram and the tower at the L. side.
Cara.

The sunset, O ay, the sunset. I have seen many

a one in my day; but never a one like this. The dumb
spirits of the air speak to me now, gathering and
whispering, over Tristram's sleep. Night and sleep,
night and sleep! Every morning brings at last but
night and sleep. That is the weird of man.

[Distant tinkling of cow-bells heard. They come nearer gradually. Bag-pipe heard.

The cow-bells, O ay, the cow-bells. That is evening's
voice. [He looks over the parapet.]
So, my pretty little
milkers, there you come; and there you will come,
to-morrow and to-morrow, though Tristram live
or die.

[The herd-boy sings.
Herd-boy
's Song

[As the song ends Tristram wakes.
Tris.

Isolt!

Cara.

What cheer, dear master? You have slept long.

Tris.

Ho mate! How heads she now? Are we making land?

Cara.

On land, master. 'Tis shore we are now. O ay!

Tris.
[Half rising and looking round.]

Where am I? Oh, I
remember. Go watch, go watch—scan the sea for a
sail. Comes she not yet?

Cara.

Ay, she will come sure enough. She will come to
you even if it were from the ends of the earth. But
'tis early to expect her yet. The channel is full of
baffling winds, master, O ay, baffling winds. But she
will come sure enough.

Tris.
Away—away! Scan the sea!
[Caradoc mounts on the turret of the parapet and looks out.
Comes there no sail?

Cara.

I see but the lonely waste of blue water, and the
channel swell breaking on the cliffs, as the tide makes
to the flood; and the white companies of the gulls.
'Twill be slack water anon. No sail, yet, master. But
she will surely come. O ay! she will come sure enough.

Tris.

She does not come, she does not come! [Sinks back on the couch.

Cara.
[Approaching him.]

Master! Sir Tristram! Gone
back to the land of dreams. Well, 'tis better so. But
Death will keep his offing from him till she comes.

Enter from the castle L., Isolt of Brittany.
Is of B.

Tristram! Still sleeping? Caradoc, is this
but sleep?

Cara.

He spoke to me but now—bade me look out over
the sea for a sail.

Is. of B.

Leave me now, good Caradoc, I will watch
alone. Go back to the landing-place. See that all
is ready.

[Exit Caradoc.
She comes now. Will she come? Do I desire it?
O God! in my devotion's agony
I schooled myself to humbleness, and prayed
That she would come, begged her to heal this wound
Which gave him to my arms, to have him, hold him,
Care for his wants, tend him as a mother tends
Her sick child! Oh, he stirs.

Tris.
Isolt! Isolt!

Is. of B.
I am here, Tristram!

Tris.
Go, go! scan the sea!
Ye have no eyes.

Is. of B.
[Retiring, but looking back at Tristram.]
She hath stolen before my face
The jewel of my love, left me to clasp
This ruined casket; with my unpitied tears
Claim what is most mine own, bitterly know
I am but his body's gaoler, while she reigns,
Queen of the world of dreams wherein he lives.
Better still sicken with him day by day,
Ebb with his life, ere healing come through her.

Tris.
Caradoc! Kurneval! Where are these traitors?

Is. of B.
Tristram! what wouldst thou?

Tris.
[Starting up.]
Hark it is her voice—
She calls me o'er the seas. Launch my swift galley,
Run out the oars, men, hoist the bellying sail;
I'll rove till Doomsday o'er the waste of waves,
And the black rover, Death, shall board me never,
Until I find her. Ho! To sea, to sea!

[He rises and walks feebly towards the centre of the stage.
Is. of B.
[Supporting him.]
Nay, thou art still too weak!

Tris.
[Struggling with her.]
Lay not thy cold white hands upon me. Off!

Is. of B.
Let me but lead thee to thy couch again.

Tris.
Thou art a ghost, thy touch chills my sick blood.
I will not dance with thee. I know the measure
Which thou wouldst have me tread, down to the grave.
The music ends in dirges, and the lights
Are but corpse-candles held in dead men's hands.
Off! Off, I say!

[He thrusts her back and stands alone.
Is. of B.
Tristram!

Tris.
Where is the sea?
I'll dance there with the waves. They leap for ever
To the brave tune of life. O weak! too weak!

[He staggers, and Isolt of Brittany supports him to the couch.
Is. of B.
I will go watch the sea.

Tris.
I hear its voice!
The winds blow fair?

Is. of B.
O yes, the wind blows fair!
[She ascends the parapet and looks out.
[Aside.]
A sail! Almost in port. That ominous bird
Of the blue waves, so small a hand's-breadth hides it,
The ship of doom! It should o'ershroud the skies
With night, appal the deep with moaning thunder!
The silence is more fearful. O for a spell
To sink it now, though with it sank the world!

Tris.
Comes there no sail?

Is. of B.
[Coming to him—aloud.]
Patience awhile. I thought—'twas fantasy!

Tris.
What hast thou seen?

Is. of B.
The white wing of a gull.

Tris.
No more?

[Groans.
Is. of B.
If 'twere a sail?

Tris.
Do not lie to me.
It is a ship—she comes! At last! At last!

Is. of B.
I thought but now I saw a distant sail.

Tris.
Death aims his last keen arrow, winged with joy,
Against my weakness. Come, Isolt, Isolt.
Bring me life's healing flame! Tell me she comes!

Is. of B.
There are an hundred ships upon the sea,
And one alone is hers.

Tris.
Go, look again!

[She goes to the parapet.
Is. of B.
The phantom thing has left the field of sight
A void of heaving waves. The near cliff hides
Her nearness from mine eyes. Her eager feet
Even now are tingling for the touch of earth;
Nay, the swift keel has grated on the strand
By this; she treads the Breton grass, and speeds
Up the slope, to take my citadel
With passionate assault. No help, save death!

[Looking at Tristram.
Tris.
[Half rising.]
What seest thou?

Is. of B.
Naught—only the waste of waves.
There is no sail.

Tris.
False, false! She will not come.
Death winds his final challenge, and the blast
Cracks the strong will to live. I plunge alone
Into the abyss of night.

[He sinks back on the couch.
Is. of B.
[Rushing over to him.]
O leave me not!
Love, take me with thee, me, thy wedded wife.

[She throws herself down by the couch, clasps him in her arms and lays her head on his breast.
Enter Caradoc.
Cara.
Madam! Sir Tristram! 'Tis the queen, the queen!

Is. of B.
Ay, let her enter now.

[Exit Caradoc. A pause.
Then re-enter Caradoc with Isolt of Ireland and Kurvenal. Isolt of Ireland advances quickly to C., then stops, gazing at Tristram.
Is. of I.
Tristram! 'Tis I—Isolt!

Tris.
Whose voice was that?

Is. of I.
[Coming nearer.]
Tristram!

Tris.
[Struggling to rise.]
What weight is on my breast?
Off! Off!
Thou nightmare! It is she, she calls—Isolt!

[He flings Isolt of Brittany off, and rises and walks firmly to Isolt of Ireland. They embrace.
Is. of I.
Tristram, I come to heal thee.

Tris.
Oh, my love,
Thy arms, thy eyes indeed! My queen, my star,
My health shines in those eyes, and I am healed.
Let us to sea, we'll give the slip to death
And sail for ever—Ah! it is too late!

[He staggers and falls back into Kurvenal's arms. Kurvenal lays him down on the couch.
Is. of I.
He swoons. I have the cordial here. O Tristram!
Tristram!

[Coming close.
Kur.
Madam, this clay was Tristram.

Is. of B.
Death, I thank thee!

[She laughs, kisses Tristram and sinks down by the head of the couch.
Is. of I.
[Passes behind couch and stands near the head gazing at Tristram.]
I keep the last kiss of thy living lips,
And will not kiss thee, dead. By your leave, lady,
I would but look upon the face I loved.
'Tis an old tale, no need for jealous hate.
Tristram, we drank together once, but now
I drink alone. The love-drink brought us death;
I pledge love in the death-drink.
[She drinks the death-drink and gazes in Tristram's face.
Enter through archway behind, R., King Mark and Brangwaine with knights and attendants.
Now I give place.
[Isolt of Ireland passes to lower end of couch.
Lie by thy husband's side,
Let me, his mistress, at my lover's feet
Take the great rest of death. Hark how the sea
Mourns more divinely than a thousand harps.
It is the dirge of Tristram and Isolt.

[She kneels at Tristram's feet.
Tableau
[King Mark approaches and stands behind the couch at Tristram's head, R. He draws his sword, kisses the cross of the hilt and lays it on Tristram's breast. Brangwaine draws near. Isolt of Ireland looks up, smiles and sinks dying at Tristram's feet. King Mark remains standing, extends his hands over Tristram's dead face in benediction. The others kneel: Kurvenal, R. of King Mark slightly up-stage behind and R. of Isolt of Brittany; Caradoc, L. of foot of couch, behind and L. of Isolt of Ireland, by whom Brangwaine has knelt, supporting her in her arms. The knights and attendants form a semi-circle behind King Mark and Kurvenal.
Funeral March. Slow Curtain.